Mein Telefon
by Corporate Voyeur
Summary: Wicki bails Stiglitz out of jail to help him with some unfinished business. Inspired by Telephone by Lady Gaga and Beyonce. I think the rest is self-explanatory. PURE CRACK /owns none of this.


"It's your lucky day, some idiot bailed you out."

The officer that came to Hugo's cell was young and full of himself. The jaunty set of his cap screamed of a man compensating for his low rank with one hell of an attitude. Hugo was glad to be free. However, he sneered at the other inmates as he was led out of his cellblock. He had to keep up an image if he were ever to end up here again.

The sun hurt Hugo's eyes when the gates opened in front of him. He was thrown out roughly, almost losing his balance. He stumbled out into the parking lot, hearing the officer's grating voice as the gate slid shut once more.

"You'll be back."

The only automobile in the lot was a large shiny black truck, idling loudly. Hugo recognized the man behind the wheel despite his sunglasses. He opened the door and was immediately assaulted by a blast of cold air.

As he settled in to the leather seat, the driver leaned over to give him a meaningful look. Hugo met this stare with equal intensity.

"Du bist ein sehr schlechter Junge gewesen. Ein sehr sehr schlechter schlechter Junge, Hugo." Wilhelm Wicki's deep voice rumbled at him. He was dressed in a black suit, unusually businesslike for just a jailbreak. Hugo thought he may be planning something, something big.

Wicki handed over a bundle to Stiglitz without breaking eye contact. Stiglitz unwrapped it and smiled when he found his sharpening strop and SS dagger. He held it up, rejoicing in the familiar weight in his hand.

"Danke."

Wicki revved the engine and peeled out of the parking lot.

After they had traveled a few miles, Hugo spoke.

"You sure you want to do this, Wilhelm?"

Wicki snorted. "What do you mean, 'am I sure?'"

Hugo shrugged and attached the strop to the end of his boot. "You know what they say," he ran the silver dagger along the length of the strop.

"Once you kill a cow..."

_(the dagger positively sings when flicked off the end of the strop, musical; a thing of beauty)_

"...you have to make a burger."

Satisfied with his knife, Stiglitz looked over at Wicki, who was gazing thoughtfully at the road ahead.

"You know, Hugo, trust is like a mirror," his voice was thoughtful, "you can fix it if it's broken,"

Hugo smirked, showing too many pearly teeth. "But you can still see the crack in that motherfucker's reflection."

Wicki shifted the truck into fifth gear and the engine roared loudly. The desert vista flew by in a blur. Though he may not be the most eloquent of men, Hugo knew now exactly what Wicki was planning. He had to stifle a chuckle at the genius of Wicki's plan.

They pulled up in a spray of gravel at a small diner in the middle of nowhere. Hugo got out of the truck and nodded to Wicki , who entered the front door first holding a black briefcase. Hugo waited a few seconds, then followed in after him, a bell chiming at his entrance.

The diner was furnished with tacky booths and a few garishly red barstools. It was at about half capacity of customers. _Perfect..._ Hugo thought as he took a seat next to the door and looked for Wicki.

He found him sitting closer to the kitchen across from another man. Both appeared engrossed in conversation until the other man angrily stood up and stormed off to the bathroom.

When the door swung shut behind the man, Hugo nonchalantly stood up and walked towards Wicki's table. Stealthily, he reached in the pocket of his coat and placed a clear bottle filled with blue liquid on the table. In response, Wicki mumbled "Number Three" in such a low voice that Hugo almost did not hear him. Hugo continued on without a single hesitation and opened the door of the kitchen.

Inside, a myriad of pots and skillets were sizzling with a number of greasy foods. There were so many cooks rushing around that no one noticed a tall blond man shake an inconspicuous white powder all over a plate loaded with eggs, bacon, and a single large waffle.

Hugo stopped, noticing there were several different plates lined up on the ledge with the same order. He shook more powder over the rest of them, even the ones that did not have a chance of reaching the victim. He capped the vial of powder and rushed out of the kitchen just as a waitress approached from the other side of the shelf and took one of the plates.

Hugo, at his seat now, watched as the same waitress placed the plate down in front of Wicki's friend. He could see Wicki's face morphing into a devilish grin as the man ate heartily. The man coughed once, twice...then kept eating.

Stiglitz stood then, walking to the man's side. He clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. The man gave him the briefest of glances and kept shoveling in food.

Suddenly, the man stopped eating, fork and knife in hand. He coughed violently and stared up at Wicki, who was wearing the same haunting smile.

The man then fell face first into his plate, dead. His fingers were still curled around his utensils.

Wicki reached across the table to pick a few papers out of the man's breast pocket. He flipped though them with a frown, recognizing them as transaction slips.

Meanwhile, Hugo picked up the briefcase and undid the latches quickly, taking out two small machine guns. He handed one to Wicki, who took it gratefully. Wicki aimed a venomous glare at the dead man.

"I knew you'd steal all my honey, you selfish motherf-"

He was interrupted by Stiglitz opening fire on the rest of the diner. A woman screamed as bullets ripped through her side and sent her toppling out of her chair. Stiglitz was consumed by the shooting, aiming the gun evenly across the dining room. The patrons who tried to get up from their seats were quickly mowed down. Those who sat where they were died before they could register any threat. The yells coming from the kitchen told Stiglitz that Wicki was making easy work of the cooks.

And then, as soon as it began, everything was over. The silence after the deafening gunfire was surreal. A red mist of vaporous blood hung in the air like a morning fog.

The two exchanged a look and escaped out the door, the bell tinkling cheerfully behind them.

"We did it, Wilhelm. Now let's go far far away from here."

"...Versprecht Du?"

"Ich verspreche."


End file.
